I never

wanted to be that person...the one with the ailments and complaints about hurting and too heavy body parts and a pill regimen that requires serious management. I optimistically (and against my nature) thought that I could simply will myself to be - not this person. Haha. Thoughts like that resemble the teenage invincible recklessness.

Nor was I planning on becoming the workaholic I turned into this past week. My love was on the other side of the planet, that had something to do with it of course. Nobody and nothing (I'm salaried now) to set a time limit on the work day (although with the modern technology at my fingertips I can work at home and yes that happened too).

Nothing like signs of spring to make me poke my head out the door and above ground and take a pause- to spend some time in the moment. Listening to the chirping and hawking and chuck-chucking outside. Take a breath, feel the still chilly breeze with a tiny promise of open windows and billowing curtains.

Even Homer was willing to check out the situation- although looking slightly annoyed in the picture (he's the ginger on the left, his ears indicate his mood). I'm trying not to complain. But my back (right side to be specific) hurts like the dickens most of the time, making the non-complaining increasingly difficult. I could go to the doctor of course, but I'm not ready for what I may be told, so I don't, for now. More sticking my head in the sand- and a great learning moment to reflect on: if I am having this much difficulty acknowledging my disease, which is not that big of a deal in the grand scheme of things- then I should imagine how much courage it takes the families I am working with to face the facts. And I never want to be the person to dismiss that.